


heart of the soul, and the soul of the world

by Sevro_of_the_howling_dragon



Category: Original Work
Genre: All will make sense, Author san loves to go die in corners, Dystopia, I have no idea how to write, Magic, Multi, Slow Burn, Spirits, if i can sort out this jumbled mess of a plot, sorta - Freeform, you'll see later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevro_of_the_howling_dragon/pseuds/Sevro_of_the_howling_dragon
Summary: in a time of monsters and magic far from now, there was a man. a man not born, made, and he would change that world forever, as he heard the stories of those around him, friend and foe, and learnt of demons and science, as he learnt of feeling, as he learnt of soul and of helping others, to help himself.ori had to write a story because a teacher at my school asked me too and i might as well upload the heap of flaming rubbish that is this, onto this site.





	1. who

 

There was nothing and then suddenly… there was everything. Colours cascading around me in a kaleidoscope of beauty, orbs of rainbows and words I could not describe, animals that flickered in their shape, in their very existence, moving across my vision following these tall walking things, humans. That’s what their species was, they were human, as they prowled, shouting unintelligible things at each other, gazing at me like I was a boon of purity and perfection. It was strange.

Slowly senses started to come to me, I smelt the rancid tang of the sweat of us apes, the cries of the prowling animals, of crows, of lions and of things that should not be able to speak. The orbs of colour somehow releasing cries of excitement as they left the humans and formed small groups, crying out, wordless cries of congratulation and excitement, yet holding so much more, if I could only just reach out and… no… not yet.

Slowly I felt something cold pressing against my back in a flat, unforgiving form. I slowly began to move my eyes left to right, scanning anything and everything for some hint, where was I? I slowly began to feel thought creep into my consciousness, and as I did what I thought was natural, I looked for something for me, an animal that was by my side, as the orbs and ever shifting creatures stood by the humans. I looked. And looked. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. And slowly I had a thought, a single thought. A dreadful thought. A thought that would plague me for the rest of this life. “ _who am I?”_

Nothing. Not a single memory, just… blank. This was all I could remember. These lights. What was my name? where am I? _What was my name!_

I felt these thoughts scream though my mind like a foghorn, filling every aspect of my being. Screaming at whatever was supposed to be in the place of my creature. But… nothing. I felt nothing. I felt the same as I did when I came into this world, only curious of what this world holds, no anguish that I had no pain, or memory, only curiosity of why. Who am I? do I have a family? How do I know what these words mean? Thoughts of my nature flowed through me, making me question my species, what was I?

Like a knife through hot butter, the fog in my mind cleared and I realized something. The only way I was getting answers was by asking. And so turning my head I set my fate in motion, as a being a cut above the rest, a set of hope, a new race. And so, in a raspy voice, that was too wet to be healthy and with lightning flashing through my veins, mind screaming at that void to stop, with me paying not heed, I rasped out my first words.

‘Who… am… I?’

 

  The humans, who I now noticed were wearing white coats, turned to me, confusion lining their faces. A few mutters went up amongst them. In their eyes was an almost fearful look. Straining my virgin ears to hear their mutters I could make out a few statements, like, ‘It talks? How can it talk!?’, ‘we didn’t make it with pre-set intelligence, how did it speak? It should be an infant in a mans body!’ at their words I scrunched up my face, curiosity evolving into confusion. Made? Did that mean that these were my creators? But… isn’t the term… born? Made means… no, I am alive, aren’t I?

Breaking free of my stupor I noticed a stand alone amongst the crowd, a man, standing at the front of the group and, unlike the others, he was not backing away in fear, no, he simply stood there, an intrigued grin lighting his face. He was a young man, probably in his 20’s, looking in quite good health, his hair a deep shade of blue, his eyes a shining yellow. Even though he looked to be in good health, he had a gangly frame, also being quite tall. On his shoulder was his creature.

It was unique. Whereas the others had ever-flickering forms and shapes, this one was still. Grounded. It was a small squirrel, hiding behind his neck, a bright, brilliant white, shining throughout the room.

It was around this point I noticed something, a strange feeling. A trickle. A trickle entering my mind, and pooling there, and as it flowed I felt things being given, irrevocable, unarguable truths, important things, secrets that should never be spoken, lies of unequivocal effect. All trickling in. and I felt… knowledge. Of how to speak, of how to move, of what life is. Of a shifting grassy plane as it turned to a pitch plane of night. Of snowy hills and sunny waters. Of grand spires stretching high into the sky as bridges too thin and without support, as they shone with an azure glow connected these spires. And I watched as one went back, and forward, and moved faster, and aged enemies until they were dust and I learned of a title, a title of power, I learnt the names that was feared throughout… wherever I was. I learnt the name of god, the name, that oh so powerful and horrible name…

 

 

 

The one.

 

 

And his men, the council of this world, the hands of god, the clocks, peacekeepers of time and life. Or so they said, as I gazed onto crimson floors and heard screams to silence the world. The clocks that tick, the time you live.

As these flooded into me I realized who these men were, at least in title, in effect I had but the barest of glimpses as the memories of their lives were handed by the creatures as they stopped and stared and those that could raised a limb to me, those that could not floated gently towards me. I learnt about life from the high council of the clocks, the ones who had the highest authority in the world, only being outranked by… the one.

Wanting it to stop I snapped my eyes shut, and clutched my head, the trickle growing to stream, trying to get these memories to _go away!_

Letting out a pained screech I collapsed onto the floor I lashed out at the spirits around me as I felt my mind creak from the pressure, writhing in pain, and my mind beginning to crack, and splinter, who am I? I am Net, one of the heads of council, NO! I am… I am… maybe I am… no… I see them I see Net, I see me in the memories from other eyes, who am I, _who am I!_

As these memories flowed through me, the squirrel, noting my pain, narrowed their eyes and if I thought that miniature sun was bright, this was indescribable.

At the light the shapes around the room recoiled, slinking back to their humans and… and… the flood was gone, whatever was causing it disappeared, allowing me to flick through them in an instant, seeing the lives that I had stored in this… void. The void that was me. I wasn’t Net, no I was… I was… the void encompassed; I couldn’t tell who I was.

 

But still, no fear, no pain, no nothing, just an all-encompassing sense of curiosity, who was I?

 

Net, seeing that I had calmed down let out a relieved sigh, and came up to me, kneeling down with a kind look in his eyes and whispered softly, ‘hello little one, my name is-‘N-net your name is Net Vybora.’ I stuttered in interruption, already knowing many things of the scientist, having been through him, in the form of the squirrel mounted on his shoulder.

He looked shocked at my interruption; as though I had said something, I shouldn’t have, but his face quickly settled back into that kind persona it had before, and he questioned softly, ‘Yes, yes it is. How did you know that?’ at his words I frowned, how did I know that? What was it I had seen?

Unable to find an answer, I frowned in mild irritation, how could I explain it? from looking through the mirages I had seen I realized a fact. A strange fact.

No one else could see the shapes. The squirrel, somehow managed to look sympathetic, and for whatever reason, reached out a paw, and begun to regain that brilliance from earlier.

 _‘I am the soul of this man, you are… strange. You lack a being of any kind, merely a shell, nothing powering it, yet still conscious and able to form memories, peculiar. As you noticed, no man or animal can see us, yet you can, almost as though the lack of your filling allows for the… background noise to be gone, and to you, all is visible.’_ It spoke in a voice so deep, yet soothing and kind, wise and ignorant, opposite, yet the same.

 

An impossibility

 

 

As I felt its words rebound around my head, feeling that voice fill my being, I felt something niggling on the edge of my consciousness. A feeling. A feeling to follow that voice. A feeling that drove me insane in those infinite seconds. But eventually I did. I followed the web it lay, treading on the threads, feeling the images flash through me and fill me with… what you would call, “full emotion” it was amazing, as I trod step after careful step on those so fragile lines of being, careful not to break the tenuous strands as the master of the threads guided my every step, every memory that entered me, he watched over and protected and showed, to show me this world I live.

Eventually, I reached the centre, and in the centre was the master of time on earth, as I felt a holy majesty, and yet a repulsive sickness radiate around that being. A master of the opposites. As the being of opposite being sat before me on the web of Net, I asked it a question, a question without form or word, only in being to be inferred in a form of speech beyond speech, and a question that would define me for my entire, empty, life.

 

_‘Who am I?’_

As the thought echoed out throughout throughout the chamber of life, the squirrel tilted its head and replied simply in that voice of unvoice, not unkindly, but instead in a voice of one who knows the answers and does not tell,

‘ _Your title is not you, you are you, an anomaly, a blank canvas with a mind able to draw from others and paint a picture that replicates, and creates. I am opposite. You are impossible.’_

At his thought I was befuddled, I may be an anomaly, but how was I impossible? And so, curious, I asked. And was answered.

_‘Your answer lies not in what you have, but what you lack. You lack the one who speaks, that remembers, that feels.’_

At his reply I vaguely understood what he meant. And so in understanding I asked, wanting an answer to the question that was lightning running through my veins I asked, pleadingly,

_‘If I am who I am, then what is my title, what is the name that I am? Please, no more riddles, no more showing me memories, what is my title?’_

Hearing this, the weaver of the web of dreams sighed, and responded quietly, in a tired voice.

_‘You are not yet ready then, for the life fate has set you. You wish to know your title, but I cannot choose that.’_

Pausing he gazed at me, into my eyes and looked into whatever was there

‘ _my shell is called Net Vybora, as you know_ , _ironically, the master of fate, has no control over his own fate, he has no control over his actions, bred and tamed like a beast, growling at his masters wishes. So you want an answer impossible one? I will give you a question. What is your name? what is the title fate has given you, what is you in a pure form? What are you, impossible one?  A shell with no filling, no driving force, just existing with nothing to pump the fires of determination and flow the river of hope. What are you?’_

At his question I had no response. I had no memories of my own, so what was I? a replica? A stitched together Frankenstein’s monster of being? Of memory? I had no filling in my being, so what was I?

I was that.

I was a blank canvas, ready to be painted on by the world and it’s inhabitants. That is what I was. A canvas to be painted on, a heart with no drive, no reason to beat, ready to be given reason. That is me.

I knew my name.

I looked at the master of the mind, of the memory and spoke the words that were me, that were my very being and creation, I spoke in a voice that was impossible for the empty drive and invisible determination and the curiosity of the nothing. As I spoke a name that shook the very fabric of the chamber of dreams and memories, of opposites and similarities, of impossibilities.

_‘My name… my name is… it is…’_

_Animo Inanimis_


	2. why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we learn a bit about Net and see some interesting things beyond the creatures

As I realized my name, I vaguely felt a sensation of being carried away somewhere, trapped in a haze of realization. I had a title. Animo Inanimis… I didn’t know why but, the very realization that I had a name comforted me somewhat, satiated that gluttonous curiosity. As my senses were returned to me, I saw as the scientists carried me to… somewhere. Deciding to just wait and see what would happen I relaxed as I observed my surroundings.

Cold grey walls made from impossibly large stone surrounded me; I appeared to be moving down a long corridor on a wheeled stretcher; as I turned my head to get a better idea of my surroundings I heard something. Whispers. Whispers from beneath the ground, of eager, hushed tones as they murmured words I could not decipher, words that felt like they would pounce and swallow me if I gave them the slightest opportunity.

Feeling a vague sense of… what I guess was fear; I looked around, searching for something to tell me what was going on. As my gaze wandered, I saw glass, glass windows, holding people, others who lacked animals like me but… different, still not like me, not full, lacking anything to power them, unlike whatever drove me to keep my heart beating, lungs breathing, blood pumping.

As these thoughts ran through my head, I felt a gaze settle on me, turning my head towards that line of inquisitive sight, I saw who I presumed was the head scientist, if his creature’s, or should I say… his soul’s, earlier stunt was anything to go by. As Net’s and my gazes locked, I felt the whispers beneath the floor grow silent, as though watching the interaction between the two of us.

Net merely examined me for a few long, stretched minutes, before returning his focus to some papers in his hand, but his companion seemed to simply narrow his eyes before returning his gaze to my chest, as though looking for some answer as to what drove me.

 

I can vaguely remember looking at our creation, seeing as he came out of that pod, fully developed, as he gazed among us with a strange, inquisitive gaze, I remember noting how thin he was, how his hair was white as snow, how his eyes were blood red. Easily explainable, he had just used up the last of the nutrition we had given him just to get his blood flowing, of course he would look a bit thin. But his hair was another matter, perhaps it was due to his inorganic creation, that perhaps he lacked the ability to produce enough melanin, but still, it was a conundrum, and the eyes were a problem. If he had ruptured veins in his eyes, producing that colouration, then what’s to say he doesn’t have internal bleeding elsewhere in his body, if so he would just be a failed creation, just like many others.

Then, he surprised me, when he spoke, admittedly shakily, but still, he spoke! A new organism with no experience with language managed to speak in our tongue! It was unprecedented, he could speak, yet no knowledge was given to his brain, we hadn’t even gotten that far with the theory, much less the practical.

It was amazing, even if many others were scared, I was amazed, a being with no teaching or experience could learn at a lightning rate. Then the others began to speak. I paid their words no heed, if being slightly frustrated, this was a new organism, impressionable, if it heard and understood what they were saying it could have a drastic effect on its psyche. I felt the creation’s gaze settle on me, as though he was examining me the way I examined him, moments ago.

As I watched his gaze move, I noticed how his gaze would shift, looking seemingly out into nothingness, as though seeing something we could not.

Then, with no warning, he began to clutch his head, eyes snapping shut, as he began to let out small whines, his body began to shake and shudder as though he was being shocked. He was in obvious pain, his face scrunched, body compressed, as he collapsed off the table he was on, onto the hard, uncaring ground as his pained throes echoed out around the chamber we were in.

This creation was our greatest success, but it looked like he wouldn’t last the day as he began to lash out at nothing, writhing on the ground, as he seemed to be undergoing some sort of seizure or fit. His eyes flashed open as they whipped around, gazing into space, never staying still as his cries grew louder and more agonised, his body beginning to curl in on itself as his eyes rolled up into his head, his body growing more and more erratic with every passing moment.

As he continued to spasm that hope, that light that had begun to grow within me shrank, and disappeared. He was a failure. He would die soon. Letting out a sigh, I resigned myself to begin the clean-up work. That insane ability of speech seemed to be activating, as he muttered things of secrets, I couldn’t understand just yet, whispers of my… no, not friends, colleagues then, and of demons and monsters.

Until all that seeming pain seemed to cease as the seizure stopped, awareness returning to his eyes as he gazed blankly at my shoulder. Simply relieved that he was alive, I let out a relieved sigh as I kneeled down to speak to him, as I began to tell him my name, he interrupted me, saying my name far more confidently than he had earlier, whatever was giving him his ability of speech seemed to give him more and more, and at an ever increasing rate.

Schooling my surely shocked face back into the kind, trusting face it was before. I had to get the experiment to trust me so we could learn about him, and how he was learning to speak. I asked him how he knew that, attempting to make some progress with him. He didn’t seem to have an answer, if the frown that flashed across his face was any indication, seeing there was no hope to get answers down that road I began to ask another question, when his gaze seemed to be drawn to my shoulder once again, paying it no heed I began to ask him another question.

 

Then I noticed his eyes.

 

 

They were blank, as though he wasn’t fully present, in a trance, but in his eyes was a light. A bright shapeless light. Looking around to see if there was anything that the light could have been reflecting off, I saw that nothing was there.

The light had come from nowhere.

 

Turning back to the man in front of me, a puzzled look cresting my face. How? Where did that light come from?

Until a new issue rose to my attention.

The man in front of me had seemed to collapse, unconscious, but his eyes seemed to still be open, that light impossibly bright. Letting out a string of vulgar curses I called for the other clocks to get a stretcher, we needed to get him to some place safe.

As I saw him being picked up by the men of murder ahead of me, I felt… _something_ in my head. A presence, something young, treading carefully in my head. Shaking my head, and promising at least three highly caffeinated drinks at the end of this, I stepped hastily through the doorway, following the troupe of scientists ahead of me, making sure I didn’t lose my creation.

 

A headache began to ring through my skull.

 

 

And so we arrived at our current situation, a stretcher being pulled down these sterile, ghostly halls, with a being that probably wouldn’t last more than a day, and if it was useless, it would be… thrown out. And I would have to do the deed.

Shaking these thoughts from my head, I looked towards my charge, only see him staring around the room, looking at those I suppose you could call… his family, the failed experiments and the experiments still being conducted. It was amazing, he was able to sustain consciousness and survive multiple seizures and collapses despite just being made, he was a miracle, it was as though he was a being that could almost resist death itself as he survived against all odds. How, though? How had he gained such incredible information, minutes after being made, advancing well beyond the program.

 

 

It was… a curious situation.

 

 

 

Almost as though sensing my gaze, he turned to me, those eyes of crimson, full and aware, piercing my very being, as though he could stare into me and glean my darkest secrets, yet I was unable to turn my head, as though locked in a trance. Those eyes, new eyes, yet looking like they had years of death and pain under their belt.

Eventually I managed to tear my gaze away from them, that feeling of invasion and judgement gone from my mind. Paying that continued gaze no heed, I wandered through the halls, wondering whether they would live or not. I wasn’t even sure which outcome I wanted. As we went down the hallway, the walls watching, ever silent, winding, judging. 

And as we went down those dreadful halls, a horrible thought rang through my skull. One of fear and primal protectiveness I wasn’t aware I had the capacity for any more. A thought that the answer to caused this entire story to begin.

 

 

_What if he lacked the gene._  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Putting that terrible thought out of my brain, I set my face in a hard line, I would not let my… I suppose you could say child, be cast out into the wasteland, I would protect him, even if it cost my life.

 

 

But as this promise rang out through my being I remembered, that painful memory, the memory of my legacy of lies, of the do-er who was broken, and the dreamer who held the hammer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a few days after, we had confined the creation to a room, he seemed to be content with just sitting there, staring at nothing, as though he was in thought of a question that he couldn’t answer,  that danced out of his grip whenever he made a move to grab it.

The only human interaction he gained was through the food and water we gave him, but that was it, yet he seemed to know us more and more with every interaction, he knew our names, where we had been on a random date  five years ago, he would randomly blurt out details which sometimes ,only that particular person knew.

Some of us proposed the idea that he had some sort of mental magic, but the idea was unheard of, unprecedented, a being that could access the very fabric of our being. It was a terrifying idea, one that the other clocks, for all their cold, stony hearts, were terrified of, they refused the idea, no exception.

We were in a meeting to decide where we should take our interactions with our creation from here, almost all seemed opposed to the idea of destroying him, but none had a solution to the problem of interaction. It seemed as though, after looking at the time of those seizures and fainting spells, that it was brought about when under large amounts of human contact. That was the only theory that we could come up with, short of it just being a side effect of this new being just coming into existence. It required further testing, and to these psychopaths ahead no cost was too high.

Returning my attention to the meeting, I saw the main arguer for the idea of keeping him isolated. The chairman and benefactor of this splinter group and of the Quis Machina project, Ziji Chexiao, armed with the strongest time magic and highest magic amount in history, again other than the one.

Compared to him, I was a gnat, an insignificant insect to be swept away if they were an issue, and ignored if they caused no trouble. The only one who Ziji focused on was the one, the entire reason for this project was to create a super being, capable of overthrowing him, and our creation was nothing in comparison even to the weakest of the lowborn. The one would kill him in a breath.

He was a man of rather… large stature, but the power he exuded made sure anyone who so much breathed a word of it, then the fate they would suffer would be… hell, to say the least.

‘It’s useless! Its body is too weak, it looks like it may break in an instant if a strong wind were to blow, much less if he were to go up against someone who is practically god!’ he snapped, his eyes darting amongst the crowd, daring for anyone to oppose his point.

And he found one.  

 

At his words of insult I visibly bristled, the area around me becoming noticeably fragmented, some say that if you looked through those fragments you would see all that is, was and ever shall be. you would see the photon bridges out in the countries of the world, you would see the collapse of old societies, see as the gene was implemented, see as the world created the grounding shield to protect the cities and countries from the wasteland and see the births and deaths of each and every  one.

How dare he? How dare he insult the creature I had poured all my heart and soul into, making a living being, from nothing! Creating that drive to keep your heart beating, and we created that! How dare he just insult it like that?

Composing myself, I spoke up, defiance ringing out in my tone. ‘He’s only just been created, he hasn’t had enough time to gain nutrients, or work on physicality, and we haven’t checked for the gene yet, have we?’ at my open defiance, everyone in the room gasped. No one interrupted Ziji, that is unless they wanted to die.

But he needed me. I was the lead scientist, the only one who knew for certain how to create the artificial human, and if he kicked me off the project, it would take years to rediscover the formulae.

That fact still didn’t change the fact that I had interrupted arguably the second strongest person on earth. Halting, as though processing the very fact that someone had the audacity to even question him. Levelling a murderous glare in my direction, his very gaze tearing apart my fragile self-assuredness. Ziji was smart yes, but he was also quick to a blazing rage that would level countries to get what it wants, and that tends to be the head of whoever awoke that rage within him.

Not breaking my gaze, he began coldly, ‘Professor Net Vybora,’ he paused, as though gathering his words, preparing to crush my opposition. ‘what, was that?’ he asked each syllable being ground out through his teeth. Most at this point would back off and pray to the one that they would survive this. Myself included.

But not today.

 

 

Drawing in a breath I shakily repeated, that defiance from earlier dying in my throat, ‘H-he’s only just been created, he hasn’t h-had enough time to...’ I paused, what if he wasn’t so merciful, maybe I should just concede and start anew, it would take time but… but we could make a new one, a new creation, it wouldn’t be too difficult.

 

Yet still…

I felt like if I didn’t try and protect him then things would go wrong, people would die, I would die, I felt as though… as though I had a _thing_ guiding me, something that was screaming at me to not let… let… let him die. Gathering my breath, I continued steady, unwavering, ‘he hasn’t had enough time to gain nutrients, or work on physicality, and we haven’t checked for the gene, have we.’ As I finished that statement I grinned wickedly, like hell he was going to tell me to stop on the specimen.

 

Continuing on my roll, I finished cockily, my victory seemingly in the bag, ‘and, I don’t know about you but, who here knows the most about human biology and is the head-god damned scientist? Me.’

But this did nothing to calm the rage of our benefactor, if anything, it only furthered his fury, as his glare grew darker, until it was as though they were film reels, and you could see the exact way that your life would end if you looked into his prophetic eyes.  

‘You may be the head scientist, but I am the benefactor of the Quis Machina project, and here is your deal, Net.’ He spat, murder coming off him in waves. ‘you get two months to train him. Then you do the test for the gene, and if I think his physical strength is unsatisfactory, then he, and you Net, are dead.’ He finished simply, tone brooking no further argument.

This was it, this was the best bet for making sure the creation would remain alive. Swallowing the bile that had risen in my throat, I gave a weak confirmation, all my energy seemingly drained from my body. If I could not physically train a synthetic human in two months then I would die, alongside my creation, my body broken as Ziji would gleefully snap my bones one by one, before aging me rapidly, but slow enough that I would feel all those years slip away from me.

Letting out a small, satisfied chuckle at his victory, he called the meeting to a close, he stood and sauntered out of the meeting, but not before turning his head towards me, a sneer splitting his face as he winked cockily at me, quashing any small thought of outcry I had within my mind.

I couldn’t breathe, the walls, they’re closing in, too much, too much noise … I can’t breath, I was going to die, I am going to die. I just went  against the Ziji Chexiao _._ I was so, so stupid, why, why did I do that? Now in two months I was going to die, being killed because this creation was faulty, killed because of a stupid instinct, killed because this creation was _useless!_ I felt myself stand as I stumbled drunkenly out of that room, the others in the room parting like the ancient myth of the red sea.

What could I do?

 

 

 

The scientist had left me alone in that room of cold stone, there were none of those creatures, souls I suppose, I didn’t move, it was like… like I was surrounded by a fog, as I flicked through those memories, feeling like I wasn’t there, like I was an onlooker in my own body.

As I flicked through these memories of love and hate and murder, one thing was a constant, the one who wanted me. An arrogant man, obese, anger filling his heart like a venom as it pumped in sporadic bursts through his veins.

As these thoughts came to me, I began to ponder a question, a question familiar, like I had answered it before, like it had faced me in the eye, staring down my heart. My empty heart. Why did I lack a soul? Why did I lack that very core aspect? Is it in my nature as a synthetic human, or is this all swallowing void here because of a reason, a purpose, it was puzzling to say the least. To know the who, but not know the whys of the who’s and the what’s, why did I live, why did I have- or rather lack what made others, them? Why was I a blank canvas, amongst fully painted pictures?

As these thoughts came through me I felt… a presence, a _thing_ at my shoulder, not a being, not a creature of my own, instead like someone was peering into something else, a presence seeing… not me, no he saw my actions I suppose. At the time I did not know what this mysterious presence was, and so, snapping out of my stupor with a feeling of an odd mix of muted fear and curiosity, I whipped my head round, staring at the spot I had felt that presence. The silent bricks greeted my gaze, giving no clue as to what I had sensed.

Hearing the whirr of mechanics I slowly turned my head, my hungry eyes scanning for one of the creatures. A familiar face greeted me, the one who I could closest call my father, on shaky legs, face as pale as a sheet and eyes crazed, stepped into the room.

Net Vybora

I looked around for his soul, in an attempt to see what had him so shaken, and I found it but… it… it wasn’t pretty.

His soul was crouched behind his knee, the flesh of the squirrel rotting off the bone, that previously brilliant light now a sickly green, reflecting off of the dull stone like a mirror, eyes, or rather, the empty sockets darted around the room, almost as though looking for a threat as its eye bounced around its patchy flesh, eventually getting lodged in the fragmented compartments of its own pearly white bone. As I looked upon the dishevelled appearance of my friend, seeing the rot and death lining his body, I felt that grim fear wash over me as I saw the cause of this pain and deathly feeling that coursed through my bones like lightning.

That man… Ziji Chexiao, the benefactor that caused this had threatened the man ahead of me, alongside myself to death if I was unable to gain enough physical strength within the coming months. It was a poor situation to say the least.

Looking up at my creator, I began to wonder how I should tell him of my newfound knowledge, that is until he provided an answer for me.

‘Listen, the one who helped create you has told me that unless we can make you stronger within the next few months, you and I are both dead. Literally.’ He told me breathily. Deciding to play along I nodded, my eyes inquiring as to his current state.

If his soul was any indication, his mental state was… poor, his eyes that previously shone with such curiosity and genius, now dull and blank, resigned and shattered, his hair already losing that rich blue, becoming frazzled. The faint scent of smoke surrounded his person, like an infestation that clung to his body. His eyes were lined by dark rings; his own body looking like it would collapse at any time.

Resolving to keep him here, if only because of what the creature at his side had done for me, I stood, staring into his eyes, feeling a shocked wave run through the room, only to be quashed by resignation and apathy as they invaded his mind. It was difficult to not allow these parasitic feelings to break my resolve. But still I stood, and with a fragile determination, resolve ringing throughout the room, I asked Net, my brows knitted together in a determined glare, ‘Where’s the training room?’

Seemingly shocked by my resolve, Net seemed at a loss for words, he did not expect me to even understand what I was saying, and yet here I was, standing and asking where the training room was, it was strange for him. Spluttering out a reply of, ‘uh, i-it’s uh… d-own here.’ He began to lead me down those cold, staring corridors once again, as he wrung his hands together, his spirit limping at his side, waves of dejection rolled off it, its fear poisoning my guide.

Putting the deathly aura being emitted off of the rotting soul out of my mind, I turned my attention to the whispers. They were loud, louder than they had been, yet not saying anything distinct, only laughing, a wheezing laugh, a laugh that somehow seemed to be mechanical, yet purely natural, it was like a manifestation of all sins ever committed, split across many beings that laughed at the pain and confusion of those who wanted freedom.

It was all encompassing, an endless echo that hammered on the insides of my skull like a cannon shot that smashed into the inner sanctum of my head, breaking through the thin bone that felt like wet paper in its wake, it destroyed all, punished those that survived, a voice of sins personified that would end all, I attracted its attention, it needed a shell, a body, it screamed its venom through my body, lightning racing down this husk I call a body and a storm of its unholy rage crackled in my mind, I felt my own being give way, the thin foundation of Net and those he worked with creaking under the weight of this… destruction!

Outwardly I showed no struggle beyond  narrowed eyes and thinning lips, my body keeping that steady pace alongside my creator, however inside, that hurricane raged on, the memories of destroyed civilisations, of cold white sterile lights and smoke raging through the skies, I felt my mind give, its fragile hold slipping like butter as that hard fury took over from those wheezing laughs, its rage and bloodlust poisoning my mind, I felt a pain indescribable flash through my body as claws dug into the foundation of my mind as I slipped through the cracks of that rage and caught glimpses of people, laughing, smiling, unfeeling, cold hard steel as it plunged into my arms and tore me asunder, as they warped the very fabric of my being, _no please, I’ll be good, don’t get the bad man, don’t hurt me, I’m sorry, please!-_ no. no I wouldn’t fall to this rage. Feeling myself grip to the small hold I had left, I refused to die. I felt this being of hate and malice feel shock at my resistance, before that rage came back tenfold, fury crashed against the fragile hold I held to the creature’s mind, but still I held, pushing against that rage and darkness, pushing this creature out of my body, attempting to force my mind back into my core. I didn’t know what this creature came here for, maybe a body, maybe just because it wanted to destroy, but I knew one thing, I would not let this creature harm this world I had so much to discover about. Wave after wave careened against the small seed of me, but I would not fall, and as I clung to this being of hate and rage, I felt something greater than that unending, unfathomable fury.

 

 

_Sadness_

Sadness unfathomable, a feeling of such magnitude it rocked my hollow being to its core, this fury was not indignant, nor righteous, it was grief born, and as this pain beyond this world racked my body, I felt the memories of this creature pound against my small core, but I refused, knowing that the second I allowed myself to be swallowed by those memories, I would never come back, I don’t know how I knew this, only knowing of a survival instinct beyond that of my body, instead fearing for my very being if I was to slip between the cracks.

As I clung there for what felt like an eternity and only a moment simultaneously, I felt myself drag the parts of me, and those memories that I had gained from Net and those scientists, claw themselves out of that place of whispers and forbidden knowledge, and _push._ They pushed against this thing holding my mind in place, and as we pushed against that darkness, I felt it give, I felt the foundations of this mind rock, as it collapsed around itself, as this being that had hurt in ways unimaginable was forced out of me, as it crashed down through the cracks, leaving only a tiny seed that would continue to push my mind. 

Slowly, very slowly, I felt myself be pulled out of that… _place_ and regain feeling. As I felt my sight return, I saw that Net and I had not stopped, as though I had only been in there mere moments, or perhaps that I had merely forced myself through that unending fury and forced myself to move one step at a time. As I looked around there were no signs of a struggle, of panic.

 

No signs anything had happened at all.

 

 

As I looked around, I felt that… I don’t even know what to call it, I felt it rage in my mind once again, as it pushed against my mind, but it gained no ground, but I felt it, that promise, that promise of punishment once it had forced out whatever it was that fought it, but I didn’t care.

If I had to live on the knife’s edge between destruction and intrigue then so be it, this… _thing_ would not be allowed to roam free, I would contain it, and I would fight it, I would not allow it to harm a world I had yet to explore. If you had asked me why I defended this world, back then, I wouldn’t have had an answer, but if you asked me now, well…

 

Let’s just say, from the few memories I had seen, I didn’t like bullies, no matter the race, nor reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, thanks for reading, sorry i haven't posted in a while, I've had this for ages, I just forgot to post it, sorry, as for the next one, expect it tomorrow, anyway as always, 
> 
>  
> 
> allon-sy


	3. the shattered shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animo gets yeeted so heavily

 Thus began my two months of hell

 

 

As I lay on my bed, one month and twenty eight days after the my training began, I felt a comfortable ache ring through me. That day’s training session had been particularly brutal, but those two months had payed off.

After two months of hellish training, pushing my body to the limit of what it could do, many, many sleepless nights were spent in the training room, running for hours, lifting twice my own body weight and breaking down and reforming my body, I had done it.

I had managed to shift from a weak, small, pitiful thing that looked like it would be blown over by a strong wind, to a spry, gangly strength, my features well defined. I wasn’t sure whether my strength was satisfactory, but I couldn’t change it. I could only do so much.

But it helped not only me, as I continued to work, slowly but surely, Net had begun to lose those heavy shadows ringing his eyes, that lingering smell of smoke slowly began to dissipate, like it was blown away by winds of fragile hope. He still fidgeted nervously, anxiety continued to roll off him in thick waves, but the edge had been taken off. His spirit had healed, those wounds closed, the eyes returned, only a few gashes remained running down the arms and body, dripping with a strange emerald light.

 

He was getting better.

 

But that wasn’t all, no for I had not just been training my body no. My mind had been growing in strength as well. over the last month, I had been allowing my body to just run on autopilot while training, getting lost within the steady pump of my heart, the burn of the weights, and the thumping of my feet on the treadmill, while it followed the threads of the mind.

Inside the mind was a world all to its own, describing it will not explain the difficulty of learning how to keep out those creatures, and how to use my own power. I remember the first time I did it, after being coaxed  it by the spirit that stood by Net, I remember being wreathed in an inky ocean of nothing, free of thought, before an explosion of emerald lightning and crashing azure waves broke the surface of the waves, illuminating it beneath me, showing images, people, shut doors and blood. So much of that beautiful crimson essence was shown in his mind, lining his memories in dark ruby. There was so much knowledge. I could gain all the knowledge I ever could dream of. _I only had to reach out and touch it. Coat myself in those memories, mine, mine, I need them, they belong to me-_ I snapped out of that haze, feeling something pull me back, it felt like this very place had sent a spear of clarity into my mind, clearing that greedy haze. Looking round I felt a watchful gaze, feeling like it could swallow me with its sheer presence alone.  As I examined that watchful gaze, a voice rang out clear and true, a familiar sound, no longer wreathed in impossibility, instead calm, cool, yet a shaking undertone could be detected, ‘ _hello my friend, it is good to see you again. welcome to me, the waters you swim in are the shell of my being, the thin layer of me that is separate from Net, but that you can gaze upon. The light illuminating it are the memories and feelings of me. But we are here for a reason.’_

The voice of my friend grew silent, his gaze expectant, but I was oblivious to it, those moments, that _life_ drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I wanted it; it was all encompassing, so much tragedy, joy and hope drawn out into a liquid light, and bottled within those things they called, _memory._ The world around me noticed my greedy gaze, and once again pulled me up from the waters of temptation.

Upon waking up, I looked around the world once more before gathering up myself and answering the words of this world. ‘Y-yeah, sorry. They’re just so… _beautiful_ that I… never mind.’ I sighed, weary, the temptation continued to wring my body out, draining it of that restraint it had gained, but now I was ready for it. Gritting my teeth, I asked, ‘why is this place different than before, it was a web in a void, but now it’s an ocean? Beyond that, how am I supposed to gain memory if I can’t tread along those threads?’

Relieved that I was not going to attempt to wrench the life away from it, the world seemed to sigh, yellow flashing through the waters. Letting out a wry chuckle, the world answered my questions, its tone light, ‘ _before you could only reach the surface of me, and I pulled you in that time, showing you only what I wanted you to see, you were merely a passenger, but now you walked down a path that I paved, you did not enter fully alone, but you entered of your own volition, therefore you now can see all that I am, my memory, my emotion, there are no walls, but the second you attempt to steal, you will be forced back to the limbo.’_ It paused, almost as though carefully considering its words, and so it finished, tone wary, ‘ _as to how you can access memories like you could before, I’m not sure, but if I had to take a guess, I’d say you would have to swim into the memories, as to that I won’t be able to stop you, but I can stop you when you attempt to influence these memories, and I will not hesitate.’_

Deciding to simply follow the advice of the waters, I swam down into those emerald waters, but that greed that had flashed through me before returned tenfold, increasing my speed, making me rocket through those cool, soothing waters as I seemingly magnetised to the nearest memory. It was… was…

_I stand in the cold room, feeling the harsh concrete begin to close in on me, there isn’t enough air, I can’t breathe, I have to rely on this weak pitiful thing before me? I’m gonna die, there’s no hope. Why is he standing, what is that look? He looks like he… he is… determined? Fearful? Stupid. Wha- he wants to know where the gym is? But… there’s no hope! What’s the point? Don’t be stupid you foolish creation! You’re just going to worsen your own situation! You… you won’t give up… why? Why do you rise! I can’t, There’s no hope, I… I… dammit- why am I feeling this… this hope! There’s no point, doesn’t he understand? In this world if you’re weak you die! She did! You’re weaker than her, you won’t last you fool! How can you last against these insurmountable odds? How- how can you… you…_

_Dammit, stop, just stop, you’re wasting your limited time, you don’t stand a chance. Just let us both die…_

_Please…_

_Just let it stop…_

_It hurts_

_I’m weak, yet you’re… I don’t get it…_

_You’re an unstoppable force, how can you be so damn resilient!?_

_How…_

_Help me_

I gasped for breath, feeling myself being pulled out of those waters, feeling that confusion and terror and _helplessness_ fade from my bones. I couldn’t breathe, it was too much, those feelings… those treacherous, poisonous feelings they… they… they _hurt!_ As I regained my senses I felt that greedy snake slink back to the back of my mind, terrified by the memories it had seen.

Shaking my head free of that terror I felt as the waters began to grow dark once again, those memories winking out one by one, I felt as the collapsing lights called out, desperation clear as the waves crashed in terror, ‘ _Animo! Help me please, I don’t want to die!’_

Waking with those last words flung into the empty space of my soul, they settled within, trembling, darting around within that space, as that message played around and around my head like a broken record, darting in and out of conscious thought as though scared of being seen, scared of being hunted and broken like- a fire burned through me, destroying any semblance of reality in response to that particular train of thought, as I felt that tiny shard of life shake and tear at the very mention of that thought of… _her._ Forcing myself back into my body, that burn transcending to an inferno that burned across all realities, that swallowed all in its terrified wake. _My sins will never be shown_. As I resisted the blazing chains of terror that threatened to engulf me, I felt my body begin to shake, conscious thought slowly began to return, amplifying that pain to beyond imagining, it was an effort to not drop dead on the spot, losing that fragile curiosity that gave me form and drive, I felt as a seed of fear was planted inside me, a seed of loss, but it was just that, a seed, I could contain it for now, right? Right?

As my sight returned to me, I saw as Net was standing alone, no squirrel as his companion, as he stared into empty space, an empty husk. Feeling worry flash through me for my friend, I ceased my exercise, that inferno’s raging slowed, the fearful tendrils of fire ceased their eternal gluttony forged in fear. Feeling that fire within me, I felt a headache crash through me, splitting me apart. Setting my face in a grim line I took a shaky step towards my friend. Then another. Then a few more. Until I stood in front of him. wary, I raised a hand to his shoulder, gripping him, I began to shake.

familiar

Then the world exploded.

 

Those flames within my mind grew infinitely, blinding me, a bridge began to form, a bridge of rich ocean that showed me all that was hidden, a link had been formed.

 

But not without consequence.

 

I felt that eternal blaze took form, as a horrific, hellish, _familiar_ form, as it cowered in the core of the blaze as it destroyed any hope of memories being gleaned, of a story told, of a life shown. Undeterred I stepped up towards that bridge, and upon me stepping on it, the bridge lit up, that clear blue lined by emerald flames that were carved into the ethereal stone. The more steps I took, the more flames spread, and by the time I had gotten to the middle, the flames had formed intricate swirls and spirals of emerald inferno. As I continued to step, reaching the end of the bridge, that terrified blaze bursting within my mind, quieted, ceased its raging and it slowly but surely drew in those terrified tendrils, as the pain retracted, and a being began to appear at the end of the connection, until the fire had all but vanished, and the figure took full shape, appearing as… a small, tiny, fragile squirrel, cracks running along its shifting skin.

I reached out a hand to touch it and-

 

The world went white

 

 

I don’t remember what happened during the rest of that day, all I remember was what I have told you now.

 

From that day forth, I had that seed of fear planted in my hollow shell.

 

 

But that wasn’t all that had happened in the last month.  My training to master my abilities was less mastery of abilities and more mastery of my greed. I spent many, many hours inside that beautiful ocean, but it always seemed… less than it had the first time. Like all that was there I had already caught a glimpse of.  We never mentioned what happened the first day, never wanting it to be real, that fire, that pain, that destruction of a world because of one greedy human.

Mastering my greed was no easy feat, it was like a snake, silent, never making its presence known unless it could catch its prey. Every time I rocketed towards those memories, I didn’t even fight back because on some level… that greed wasn’t something to be fought. It was something to be coerced.

Putting that aside, by the time that our deadline was fast approaching, I was partially able to convince my own greed of abstinence, of allowing it to be a slow process, of feeling the memory, and watching the truth of that person, that memory, instead of hoarding it all, just so we could gain more knowledge before being forced out of that ocean. As I said, only only partially. If I hadn’t given it new memories, new _life_ to explore within the span of a few days, then well, it would swallow me, and the moment I attempted to enter another’s soul, it would attempt to swallow that world whole, draining it of that lifeblood of memory and feeling, sating its own hunger. It’s hard to contain and fulfil its desire without destroying Net’s soul.

But there were other things… less… pleasing than my progress.

 

It was a few days after my creation, apparently determined to call itself “Animo” had his first attack after those he had upon his creation, him and I were taking a different route down to the training room, I had to show him the rest of the building in the event that he would stay.

As we walked, we passed by many windows, windows that showed the outside world. His curiosity was sparked to say the least. As he gazed in a sense of… wonder? Curiosity? That’s the thing with this creation, he never showed any discernible emotion other than cold grit and a sense of… something.  Anyway, he breathed, monotone yet somehow lined with what I could only describe as a mix curiosity and wonder, ‘what is that?’

I was shocked, before a strange feeling of guilt ran through me. He had been alive for a month, with knowledge rivalling that of some of my dumber co-workers. Yet we had never shown him the outside world. This creation that was going to do everything in its power to save itself and me, yet it knew nothing of this world? Why fight so hard for a thing you know nothing about? Why try to save someone you know nothing of? And yet I had made it into a life of servitude and shackles. This kind, benevolent, curious creature was trying to save me. And I was going to throw me to the wolves.

Pushing those thoughts away, I tried to answer him without telling him what his fate would be. I couldn’t. Trying and failing to steady my voice, I choked out, ‘that is the world outside this facility, creation,’ pausing, I felt as whatever hope for a good relationship with this being vanishing into the wind. Taking a shaky breath, I finished coldly, attempting to rip the bandage off quickly, ‘and you are forbidden from exiting the facility without express permission from a scientist. Understand?’ with every syllable I felt my heart wither and die. This was it. The creation that had attempted to save me, finally being made aware of the shackles around each wrist. I was a piece of filth in human form.

And yet, this crea- no, at this point he deserves to be called as he wishes. Animo didn’t have any rage, or disappointment or anything flash across his face. His curiosity did not abate, if anything it looked like it grew larger, his eyes appearing to search hungrily across my face, as though searching for something, before his eyes flashed to my shoulder, as though looking at something. This was not a surprise to me at this point. Frequently you could catch Animo staring out into space, a blank or inquisitive stare piercing the thick, empty air.

Simply shrugging his shoulders, he gestured for me to lead the way once again.

Then the screams started.

Bolting back to the window fast enough to give someone whiplash, he scanned the courtyard outside for any sign of the source of that cry. He found it. A young girl, only appearing to be around three or four was being taken by the arms by two nondescript men. Dammit. I had hoped to hide this fact from Animo for as long as I could, I couldn’t… I couldn’t let him see what was going on in this world, the pain, the ones who were discarded like broken dolls, to be… played with if one made it to the city, or to the countries, and if not, thrown to the wastelands, engulfed by the horrible mutants out there, thrown away as thought they were nothing but a memory, not even existing in the first place.

Yet still, like damn inquisitive pain that he is, Animo of course couldn’t leave it alone.

A frown floated across his face, before it vanished, like it was never even there, as he asked, that curiosity cold now, brutal, ‘what are they doing with that girl?’ he was quiet, as though, despite not having any experience understood the weight of this moment.

Unfortunately, it had all become too much for me. ‘Dammit Animo! Don’t you know when to keep your mouth shut? What’s this? What’s that? That doesn’t matter! What matters is making sure we don’t die!’ I snapped, every syllable being punctuated by exasperation and rage. At my rage, the man on the receiving end didn’t seem upset, more surprised, as though he didn’t expect it, but his expression quickly schooled itself back into neutrality.

Pinching the bridge of my nose I sighed, turning away, allowing my frustration to simmer for a moment, choosing my next words carefully, I turned back to him and wearily sighed, just wanting these two months to be over, ‘No, sorry, ask away, I… I shouldn’t have shouted at you I’m just… tired. You have every right to be curious. As to your question…’ I paused, once again unsure of my words, should I tell him? Should I reveal the sorry state humanity is in? I looked at him, and I saw as that curiosity once again flowed in his eyes, ever consuming, I had to, I owed it to him.

Stealing myself, I quickly breathed out, terrified of his reaction, ‘They are the silent, the magicless. They have no place in society, and are cast out into the wastelands.’ I had seen many reactions to this message, shock, my own which was my lunch regurgitate onto the floor, cold indifference shown by those who would come far in society, pleasure. But never… _this_! It wasn’t any of those it was just… curiosity! No rage, no horror, just curiosity, like that was all he could feel! Like he had no regard for their life, just regard for the information of _why_!

Holding my face in forced neutrality, I let out a shaky laugh, as I led him along those too small, laughingly silent corridors.

As I led him along, I failed to notice as his pupils began to yellow, and molten cracks began to run across his darkening skin.

 

 

I was always interested in Animo. Back then? I was scared of him.

 

 

 

 

Anyway, as I was saying before someone decided to tell their own story, I was reading on my bed, reading some book about… something, I can’t remember, I had become a frequent visitor of the small library we had inside the facility, that natural curiosity driving me towards it when all of a sudden a rage bubbled up unannounced inside me, it was all consuming, it ate away at everything I was, trying to break who I was. Simply frowning and resigning myself to another day of this, I bunkered down, not giving an inch to this thing. This was that creature that attempted to gain control, as it had before, I had gained practice at containing it, stopping it, the less ground I gave it in my mind, the weaker it was.

It was very distracting though, and if I wasn’t careful, I could lose myself to it, like I nearly had the day I discovered about the silent, and their fate. They were interesting, what caused magic? And what made it so some had it and some didn’t. that curiosity, but with that lack of what Net’s soul calls “empathy” it gave this thing a chance to gain control. I was curious into the nature of this thing but I couldn’t exactly ask it what it was and where it came from, all I knew was that it was dangerous.

As I forced this rage down, I felt as a familiar presence stepped through the wall of my room, some would’ve said cell but, those people… anyway, as that squirrel stepped through the room the body was not far behind. As the lead scientist entered the room, I began to take note of something. Something big. Deciding to answer the question quickly instead of waiting for Net to regain himself, I entered that ocean world once more. As I felt that now familiar weightlessness, I began to feel something echo throughout the emerald beneath me.

 

_Dread_

Diving down into that ocean I looked for the most recent memory in search of what could have plagued him. nearest to the surface was a still bubbling memory, this was it. Only just formed. I reached out to touch it, to drain me into that memory in search of the answer, ignoring the pangs of greed that ran off my hollow shell like the waters surrounding me, I went in.

 

It was in a room with a great oak table in the centre, chair surrounding it, ornately carved. Standing inside were two men, Net, drinking what I can only assume to be a heavy duty coffee, and another scientist, it was quiet, Net and the scientist were discussing something about an experiment they would have to run on me, something about a gene, when suddenly footsteps were pounding in the adjacent corridor, as a flushed scientist came in the room and hissed, ‘Ziji, he’s moved the deadline up to _today_! He’s on his way right now, get the creation here. Now!’

Getting what I needed I exited the soul and returned my attention to the man ahead of me, I stood up, surprising him, before making to leave.

‘here’s to hoping the last two months have paid off.’ I deadpanned, walking past him, making my way down to the room I had seen in Net’s memories. As we arrived, the small aura of anxiety and fear exuded by Net amplified itself, running off of him in waves that made me struggle to keep my composure as I felt Net’s thoughts leak into my own,  thoughts of weakness and terror, that I wasn’t strong enough.

Outwardly Net showed no signs of terror other than sweat that crested his brow and a slight tremor in his hands, but well… let’s just say in Net’s position, hiding your feelings was second nature.

Putting that aside I looked ahead at the man that had caused this and despite myself, I felt my lip begin to curl into a disdainful sneer at the man ahead. He, like many of the scientists had an ever shifting soul that would never remain in the same shape for long, ever shifting, but one thing remained the same, it secreted a purple light like sweat, but its body was a harsh orange, difficult to look at, on the man this spirit held the memories of was a mirror to my own sneer.

 

‘So this is the creation designed to kill the one? He looks stronger than he did, I’ll give you that.’ The man ahead of us said, disdain creeping into his tone as he snapped me out of my stupor. ‘Have you tested for the gene yet?’ he asked turning to Net expectantly.

Straitening his shoulders Net replied steadily, not giving an inch ‘No, not yet sir, we have spent the last two months training, we have not had time to test for it.’ As he finished I felt as his spirit began to decay slightly, the eyes beginning to slip from their sockets in the terror of the man in front of us.

Sighing, he returned his gaze to me, and drawled with the promise of murder if satisfaction was not delivered, ‘Well, I suppose I should check his physical strength’ he stood and gestured for us to lead the way to the training room, his face the picture of smug expectancy.

This was it. This was what my last two months of training was leading up to. The make or break moment. My life was dangling on a string off a knife’s edge prepared to snap, I guess it was time to climb the string.

My resolve was unwavering, I would not lose to this man, I would see what this world had to offer, I would not die before I had seen everything this world owned and discover every secret, every hidden grove, every animal on the earth, this _glutton_ would not get in my way.

Net evidently did not share my confidence, the eyes were dragging behind, leaving a trail of luminescent essence, the skin was rotting, I could see the pearl beneath the skin and he was a deep, sick green. The fear was palpable, so thick it felt as though you could cut it with a knife, it felt like walking through molasses, but I couldn’t show it on my face, any weakness and that string would snap.

 That creature inside my head was pounding on the walls, trying to destroy the walls that I had erected, the foundations that held me down to the weak, flimsy grip of reality, I stumbled, the fear exuded and the rage crashing nearly managed to blow down my mind, I was like a man in a sandstorm trying to breath in the sand and keep moving, but I did for the fear of my life, fear that the man behind would rip all the wonders this world had just out of reach, it was terrifying and, behind the screeching of this thing in my mind, I faintly could hear that wheezing laughter, as they howled at my pain, cackled at what I did not know was to come.

Snapping me out of my stupor was us arriving at the training room, here was the reckoning. Taking a breath, I looked back at the last two months and thought of the admittedly painful moments but also… the good, the stuff that… broke me…

‘Well? Get on with it!’ the man behind me snapped, turning to Net. Net was evidently caught in a similar stupor, as he jolted at Ziji’s words, seeming surprised he was even. He stuttered, voice cracking at times, ‘R-right, Animo, go ahead and show him w-what you can do.’ The scientists seemed surprised that he had used a name for me, but they didn’t mention it, perhaps because they knew if they interrupted him during such an important moment they would die, with all certainty.

Taking in a breath to steady myself, I stepped forward to show this man what I could do.

 

I don’t remember how long I spent in there, lifting weights twice my own, sprinting across the distances set, jumping for as long as this man wanted, running as he wanted, being his puppet, a clown in his circus.

Once it was over though, I was struggling for breath, panting like the dog I was, Net evidently did not seem to notice my exhaustion however, as he wringed his hands, brow coated in sweat enough to fill the world within his spirit. He asked the man ahead of us, voice shaking,‘S-so, h-h-how was… th-that?’ the benefactor appeared to be thinking heavily, but his spirit belied his feelings, he was pleased, immensely, he was exuding joy like it was the sweat perpetually cresting his face.

Letting out a shaky smile I felt as relief flooded through me at the realization that yes, I survived, I wouldn’t die, I could still learn the secrets this world would whisper in my ear. I distantly registered as he confirmed my suspicions as he looked down his nose at us, yet a small twitch of his lips as he admitted, sounding bored, ‘Yes, it has satisfactory strength.’ The relief flooding from Net was immense, I could barely stand in the face of it. The creature inside of my mind during the entire examination seemed… silent, solemn. Putting this out of my mind, I straitened my back, as I grinned at my creator, the squirrel was bouncing around, its body reformed, only a slight green tinge coating it gave any hint that it held fear within it.

‘Now for the test of the gene.’ The man ahead said simply, like it was the most insignificant thing in the world. it evidently was not if the reaction from Net was any indication, he paled drastically, his eyes widening as though realizing something, his spirit had regained that horrid colour, its body more skeleton than flesh. This was bad.

Net squeaked out, ‘y-yes sir, this way.’ He led the way as though in a drunken haze, the thing within silent, but its rage was unparalleled, the laughter from earlier now an orchestra of wheezing howls, as they broke the walls of this world, the whispers replaced entirely now by that howling laugh.

We came to a room like the one that I was made in, but now empty, a glass wall separating two halves of the room. There were a few scientists in here, fiddling around with some sort of machine, Net gestured for me to go through to the room opposite, his eyes pleading that I did not.

 

I walked through.

 

Once inside the scientist previously tinkering with that machine picked up various nodes and bustled into the room, attaching the nodes onto my body, each one giving a small electric shock as they came into contact with my body.

Gathering up my confidence, I raised my voice above the hum of the machines in the room, and asked, voice monotone, ‘what is the “gene”?’ upon hearing my question, Ziji looked an odd mix of curious and surprised.  Turning to Net he muttered something indecipherable, his spirit turning brown, _surprise_ , something in my mind supplied, putting that out of my mind, I looked at the two, Net shook his head, appearing bashful, his spirit’s skin rotting even further. 

Turning back to me, the benefactor for my creation pinched his nose before grounding out through his teeth, ‘the gene is what gives us our magic. In our genetics there is an algorithm which allows us to manipulate certain things, most can only manipulate particles, a single specific type, some others can manipulate every type, or just many types, people like me are called the clocks, we can manipulate time, and peer into it. There are many, _many_ restrictions on time magic, but then there is… the one.’  I actively flinched at the name, remembering the soaking of countless floors and the destruction of so much and- and- ‘he has the strongest magic, it is known as, and aptly so, _god_. He can do literally anything, no restriction, and can do his magic allows his to manipulate, and even create anything, he is insurmountable to anyone on this earth.’ He growled out, interrupting me from my panic.

 

Clearing that haze of anger from his eyes he looked at me, sneering he finished, ‘and that is why you were made.’

I didn’t take that last part in, I was so focused on making sure that I understood the weight of what I had been told. The silent, it wasn’t that they just lost their magic, they just got unlucky, I was so, so enthralled, how was magic created? Who came up with the algorithm? Was that what me seeing these souls was? The spark of my curiosity had met the flint of new information.

As the scientists finished putting the nodes on me, Ziji spoke up once again, his face the picture of bored smugness, ‘it is worrying that you have not yet shown any signs of magic, but not unheard of. Those nodes are twofold, showing us the power of your magic, and also bringing the gene forth, allowing you to access it. So just put your arms out and think of something in the area moving, changing.’ Frowning, I realised that they did not know of my sight, and so, attempting to appease them, I tried to use magic.

 

 

 

 

And tried.

 

 

 

 

And tried.

 

 

 

I flailed my arms wildly, thinking of the walls, the air the glass, _anything_  to move, to react, to even shift in the slightest, the walls murderous in their stillness, that laughing from earlier multiplying, stop laughing, _stop laughing_! Nothing happened, I begged, I stayed like that for hours and hours, trying and trying to do _something_ , but nothing happened, the room remained still, the glass no longer showing anything other than my own failure as the sight gleefully pierced the veil like a dagger, exposed the lies that I was in control, that I was strong, that I could do anything other than see some pretty sights, that I was anything but weak. I felt something new, desperation.

Desperation mixed with fear, terror that I would die before I could do anything; that I would be thrown into the wastelands and die from whatever fate the silent were left to.

I kept going like that…

 

 

 

 

Until my benefactor decided that I had wasted enough time.

 

 

I remember him calling for the scientist to get rid of me. I remember being grabbed by cold, sterile gloves as I went from flailing to struggling, pulling against their grip, I remember screaming, _something_ flowing through my voice as I cried out, ‘Please! Please I can be useful, you don’t have to do this, I can help, please I can do thing, you don’t have to get rid of me, Please!’ I remember as a new feeling came across my face, as I felt something wet trickle from my eyes as I was dragged from that room, something wet and heavy rolled down my face as my grief came out in my throes as I locked gazes with my creator and saw as he did not even show any emotion, his face blank, the creature at his side _regaining_ flesh as it knitted back together.

I screamed at him,  this new emotion running like lightning through my veins, breaking that nothing that perpetuated my existence, in a cry, ‘Net, please, please I’m your friend, help me, I don’t want to die, I want to stay with you please! Don’t… don’t let them do this, I- I don’t want to die.’ I remember as I broke into sobs as I stared in fragile hope that I could stay, that he would try and protect me.

He did _nothing_

He stood there and didn’t even acknowledge me, just turning away, professional detachment, right Net? As I was dragged away he just turned away and began to speak to my murderer as though they were discussing their favourite coffee! I grew silent, my cries quieting, and before they took me outside that doorway, I asked weakly, quietly, brokenly, ‘Net?’ he did nothing, I was dragged away, distantly registering one of the scientist mumbling something, as I was dragged away, I remember mumbling about don’t let me die please, I couldn’t stop it, the walls were too small, closing in, the laughter was ringing like a hammer breaking me, I couldn’t I-I wouldn’t die, I _couldn’t_ … right?

Too small, I’m breaking, _I’m breaking, somethings shattering what is this whatisthiswhatisthiswhatisthispainithurtsmakeitstopNethelpmepleaseidontwantodiepleasepleaspleasePLEASEPLEASEIDONTWANTTODIEMAKETHEPAINSTOP-_

Don’t close the door, please let me stay I’m useful…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They closed the door…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He_ closed the door

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They shut me out…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They will regret the day they made me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Net will burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again! i just forgot to upload, just not as long this time at least, anyway, this fic is probably going on hiatus for a while now. 
> 
>  
> 
> Allon-sy

**Author's Note:**

> weeeellll... thats the first one 
> 
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> 
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> 
> check out my other story, Age of origin, because that is what i will primarily be updating, these will be less frequent. MUCH less frequent 
> 
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> as with age of origin, google translate is going to be your best friend for figuring out the meaning behind these names
> 
> as always, Allons-y


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